Hard Rime

by Chelle C. Craze

  Hard Rime

  Chelle C. Craze

  Hard Rime © 2019 Chelle C. Craze

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Hard Rime is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Otherwise, hold on and enjoy the ride, you crazed lunatics!

  Editing & Proofreading by: Maria Vickers

  Cover by: Chelle C. Craze of Crazy Bird

  Imaginations

  This book is for anyone who has ever been touched by PTSD. No one knows the battlefield you walk, but they can march along your side.

  Contents

  Synopsis

  1. Halle

  2. Halle

  3. Crash

  4. Halle

  5. Crash

  6. Halle

  7. Crash

  8. Halle

  9. Crash

  10. Halle

  11. Crash

  12. Halle

  The End for now

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books by Chelle C. Craze:

  Synopsis

  HALLE

  When Crash walked through my door, I was living in the shadows of my past, and the fear of loneliness guided my every notion. Yet, when he offered to rescue me from my own constrictions, I wasn’t sure I would ever be ready to fully let him. He was persistent and nothing like anyone else I’d ever met.

  CRASH

  Halle had moxie, but then she hid beneath the world’s expectations. She wasn’t at all the type of person I ever pictured for my Old Lady, but I hadn’t actually figured out what that entailed for me anyway. The longer I was around her, the clearer it became that I had to have her in any facet I could. I kept her a secret from my brothers because I wasn’t ready to give that piece of her to the Dogs of Chaos, not right away.

  Life was filled with countless uncertainties and breathtaking moments, only some never took the time needed to live in those fleeting seconds. More often than not, a person let their heart be consumed with the obscurities that passed through their body, not the clarity of hopefulness begging to shine light into their core.

  It was a constant battle for us to find direction together and not stray from it, but my determination was unwavering. It didn’t matter if either of us understood the path we were traveling or where it began as long as it ended with us.

  1

  Halle

  “The she-devil finally arises. Maybe now we can figure out what color our bathroom is going to be since someone was too preoccupied buying Christmas decorations to pick up a bucket of paint,” Dax, my best friend and roommate, theatrically said as he flipped the corner of the area rug over with the tip of his designer shoe. He affectionately smiled, fanning his face with the array of color paint swatch cards we had picked up at the hardware store yesterday. We wanted to give our place a makeover, well, he did, but our trip wasn’t very beneficial. In fact, it had been more counterproductive. Once we had made it to the Christmas décor portion of the store, I lost Dax. There was no coming back from the twinkling lights to picking out a paint color.

  “She would still be sleeping if her roommate wasn’t blaring reruns of Runway Models Today. And, I wasn’t the one skipping through aisle five with a garland around his neck singing It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” I replied with a hint of sass in my voice, fully aware that I had been as distracted as he was. After a few minutes of watching him, I grabbed a candy cane lawn stake and sang the words into its arch right along with him.

  “Mmhmm,” he glanced at me from his peripherals and slowly crossed his legs. “She’s a mean one, Mrs. Bitch.” He laughed but mostly ignored me as he usually did in the morning. Of the two of us, he was definitely the early riser, and I had never been a morning person. I loathed getting up before noon, and if my job or some other type of obligation didn’t require it, I didn’t roll out of bed until at least noon.

  “Anyway. Daily update. Heather totally chopped off Danika’s hair while she slept. Can you believe that?”

  “No. She didn’t. That bitch.” I dramatically covered my mouth with the tip of my fingers then turned to the one-cup coffee pot, hitting start. A thin line formed in the middle of his forehead and his baby blues squinted beneath his perfectly groomed eyebrows.

  Dramatically flipping his hands upward into the air in unison, he rolled his eyes and patted the cushion beside him. “Girl, Heather ruined Danika’s one of a kind sequin Giuseppe Zanotti’s because she is a jealous bitch. Danika won the last competition with her ‘somewhere over the rainbow’ brow. Girlfriend has the sexy resting bitch face, and that in itself is an accomplishment,” he explained, pointing the remote toward the television to make sure I caught the recap as he paused and replayed the scene.

  He was well aware I had zero to no interest at all in any of the rehearsed shows and the fake drama they portrayed as factual events. My thoughts were this, they were purely for popularity numbers and shock value. Regardless, he always made a point to keep me up to date on anything having to do with the fashion scene, even down to the mostly fabricated shows that aired on television. Our opinions weren’t similar at all when it came to these things; however, he often pointed out that even though I didn’t stand directly in the spotlight of the fashion industry, I most certainly wasn’t lurking in the shadows either. I frequently accompanied him to the runway and sat in the crowd as his plus one.

  “Oh,” I absentmindedly answered him, crossing my legs under my body and blowing onto my coffee, the steam puffing outward into the living room. This conversation was for his benefit, not mine, but we were best friends, and that meant we supported each other even in the most trivial things. Although, there were more pressing matters we should be discussing right now. The most important were the roommate interviews scheduled for later today. Our extra bedroom had been vacant for some time. It was more of a catch-all-room and part walk-in closet, neither of which was paying a portion of the rent I desperately needed it to be. I hated that having someone move in would decrease our storage space, but keeping it as that for much longer wasn’t an option for me.

  Working at Zingers, I barely cleared enough in tips and the shitty excuse for what they gave as an hourly wage to scrape together my chunk of the rent each month. We weren’t exactly scrambling to make ends meet because Dax did very well for himself. He would and had covered the biggest piece of the bills when things got tough and would always pay for everything if I let him. I couldn’t do that; it was a tick of mine. Even though I knew he didn’t see me as a charity case, it felt shitty accepting my best friend’s handouts as if I was inadvertently taking advantage of our friendship. Besides, I wanted to provide for myself as Dax did, not ride on his coattails for the rest of our days.

  �
�Dax?”

  “What’s bothering you, doll face?” He turned his attention to me, setting the remote onto the coffee table in the center of the room, and lifted my chin with his well-manicured fingertips.

  “Are you not even a little bit nervous to have someone move in with us?” I questioned him, meeting his gaze and encircling his free hand with my own so he was aware of my seriousness. It made me cringe when I imagined our townhouse cluttered with another person’s dirty clothes frivolously slung into every empty corner of our clean house or glanced at the empty sink that could be filled with their dirty dishes. Never mind the fact Christmas was approaching, and quickly. Our entire décor would be altered, which would be a huge nightmare to Dax, even if it only meant hanging an additional stocking to most. Dax would have to redo the whole theme of our decorations to reflect the new tenant’s personality as he had his and mine.

  I was more of a simplistic person. As long as we had a tree up with a few decorations, I wouldn’t have any complaints. My constraints are more about adding another person into our safe zone. Dax, on the other hand, was more than excited at the idea of someone else living with us. It would give his creative personality a fresh outlook on everything, or so he said when I brought up the discussion of an addition to our twosome.

  It was a necessity, that part was without question, but having someone else basically intrude on our seclusion from the rest of the world, drove my anxiety insane. What if they were a psycho or a hoarder? Even worse, what if they were a criminal? Merely thinking of the vast possibilities put me on the verge of a panic attack. Although, I wouldn’t meltdown over a mere idea. I had to hold it together and bury my fears within. Dax was the drama queen, not me, but I couldn’t shake the uneasiness of it all. I should be able to, it was my grand idea in the first place. Despite how thinking of it made me uneasy, I stood by my choice. Something had to change in our money situation and fast. There was no chance I was winning the lottery soon, considering I didn’t even buy scratch-offs, therefore, this seemed to be the only plausible option at this point.

  In usual Dax style, he shrugged his shoulders but was quick to come up with a feisty reply, “Bitch or stag, either way, they won’t be as cool or have as much swagger as we do.” He winked and leaned in to place a light kiss against my cheek.

  “Whoever it is, they better be hot. I haven’t gotten any in…” He flipped his fingers out one at a time while he concentrated on the time that had passed, staring at the ceiling and counting out loud.

  “Dax, we can’t base our roommate decision on the quality of ass they bring.” I was quick to grab his fingers he was using to tally, curling them within my hand.

  “Speak for yourself, Halle. I fully intend to ass…ess all of the ass…ets of our future roommate like it’s my job. Because, as you know. It. Is.” He pursed his lips, slightly tipping his chin toward his shoulder, and dramatically batted his eyelashes.

  Momentarily, he paused to pick the remote up and switch off the TV. “I don’t plan to stare at a pancake ass on anyone day-to-day. We have appearances to keep up. Clothing and otherwise. Besides, I told you, I could pay the rent for the two of us. It’s you who insists we find someone else.” He stood using his hands to accentuate the words of his statement, nodded his head, and then sauntered in the direction of his room.

  “The only thing I’ll agree to is they must have the six months’ rent as asked in the ad, and they can’t bring drama. One queen is the quota for our apartment,” I half-heartedly joked. We both knew our place wasn’t large enough to accommodate another person with as many outfits as he had especially given he would have to find another place to store said clothing.

  He promptly glanced over the point of his arched shoulder blade, slowly running his tongue over his upper lip, and smirked. Without hesitation, I did the same and then stuck out my tongue, not giving a damn how childish it made me look.

  “Halle, I’ve told your ass countless times, I’m bisexual. Not full-on gay. Unless you plan to use that tongue of yours, keep it in your mouth or I’ll teach you how to give a proper blow—”

  I interrupted him by chucking one of the sequin throw pillows off the couch at his head with as much force as I was capable of.

  “Dax…”

  “I’m only kidding, Halle,” he said with a huff, catching the pillow and flinging it back to the couch and against my thigh. He quickly changed his usual prance to a more masculine stride, and squared his shoulders, wiggling his eyebrows and slowly undid his belt, letting his pants drop a little to expose his “V”. He laughed as I shook my head; he knew that part of any man was my weakness.

  “You have to admit, the two of us together is a delectable thought. Think of how gorgeous our babies would be.” He winked, grabbing his pants before they had a chance to fall around his ankles, and turned away from me, shaking his ass before he stepped into the doorway of his room. “Could you imagine the amount of jealousy the world would have if you were mine and I was yours?” he giggled, shrugging. “I’m just saying, we are hot together. A power couple. Right up there with Beyonce and Jay-Z. Will and Jada.”

  “Mostly kidding,” he added, flipping his sandy blond hair out of his line of vision, closing his door behind him with a throaty laugh.

  Dax Trahan was not only interning for the most valued prestige-clothing designer of New York, he was also one of their top models. He looked like Alex Skarsgard’s younger brother, and it was dangerous for me to be around him when I met him in high school. I did a double-take to make sure Eric Northman wasn’t randomly walking through the hallways at Blackwell High during my freshman year. Everything in me understood the idea was unrealistic, but it didn’t stop my tongue from begging to hang out of my mouth in a pant every time we passed each other. I was a nonexistent person in his life, but I was more than aware of who he was, as pathetic as that sounded. All my life, as long as I could remember, I’ve always tried to blend into the background of things. Afraid to be noticed. I never really had a reason for this, I just didn’t want the spotlight on me.

  It took some time for the two of us to have a real conversation, more than a random word spoken out of politeness here and there when one did something as simple as holding the door for another. In protest of spirit week, I dressed up as a gothic cheerleader every day, and on the third day, he introduced himself to me. I never imagined then that we would be where we are now. Best friends. It wasn’t a possibility I ever considered. He’d been dating Jaci and then, after their breakup, we became close. Jaci wasn’t ever what I could call a best friend, but more of an acquaintance. No one was really in her inner circle other than Dax, his brother Cal, and Mar. The friendship between Mar and I was always stronger than the one with any of my other peers in school. Of course, that was before Dax took me under his wing; we were almost inseparable after that fact. I didn’t judge him for his sexual preferences, and he didn’t care about my social rebellion. He said it made me a trendsetter, gave me an edge that no one else our age had. I should have known then he would pursue a career in fashion, but then again, he really hadn’t fully embraced his true self.

  Fast forward five years, and here we were, closer than ever, and not a day went by without one giving the other shit. We did share one drunken night together that diffused the sexual tension we thought was between us, but it didn’t amount to more than us making out and him giggling halfway through after groping my boobs. Thankfully, when the morning came, and we had both nursed our hellacious hangovers with greasy food and hair of the dog, we agreed it would never happen again. Ever. Being just friends was what we were always supposed to be, and somewhere in between alcohol and loneliness, we had gotten lost along the way. We vowed nothing remotely close to that occurrence would ever happen again, and it hasn’t.

  Yet, I kept that night stored in the back of my mind as a reachable warning just in case I ever needed to be reminded of what not to do. The friendship between us was playful and came off to some as us flirting with one another. It wasn’t tha
t. Some people even went as far as to say our sexual tension was off the charts, in which I always replied with an unpreventable cringe. Dax was my family, my brother, and I knew without a doubt, he shared the same feelings toward me. He liked to tease me often but was never serious about any of his actions. Besides the fact, I was almost certain his preference for men far surpassed that of women over the years. Needless to say, he wasn’t my type, and I most certainly was not his.

  2

  Halle

  “Yes, Jeremy, I understand,” I quietly mumbled, chewing on the corner of my mouth as self-doubt circled my insides and trickled into the gaps of my brain. On a general note, I wasn’t the type of person who wallowed in self-pity and hate, but once the spiral began, it was easy for me to slide down the slope of uncertainty.

  The day the two of us broke up was inevitable. I always knew it was coming, but I didn’t expect us being an us would end today. We weren’t right for each other. I wasn’t stupid or clinging to a forever that would only end when one or both of us met our death. That ending merely wasn’t written for us, and I was okay with that. It was simply, I hated the thought of being alone. There was no particular reason for it, it was something that always laid stagnant in the back of my mind, awakening anytime loneliness was able to find me. I didn’t know where the fear came from exactly, but the thought of being alone and single scared the mortal shit out of me. It always had, as if the sheer idea of facing the word by myself was undoable. Every logical thought in my mind was more than aware I held the strength to take care of myself. I’d done it for many years when I’d put my needs aside and took care of my mom. Hell, being with Jeremy was eerily similar to the situation. He never catered to me, which wasn’t something I ever expected from a significant other, however, having someone occasionally place me before them was something I might have wanted. Honestly, I had no insight into the subject because I had never been given the option, so I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted. In a relationship of any kind, there should be a certain amount of give and take. Unfortunately for me, in most of the interactions I had with other people, I was somehow always giving a hell lot of more than I ever took.